Emanuel Ungaro the fashion designer was the son of a tailor who fled Fascist rule by moving to France, a move that turned out not so great after the invasion of France during WWII, with Emanuel himself learning how to sew as a child on a sewing machine he was given. Ungaro's career trajectory then makes sense, although the many partnerships he enjoyed have muddied the success of his house somewhat outside lower-cost ready-to-wear and the short-term successes of the many aborted attempts at a fragrance house done independently, then through everyone from Wertheimer (owners of Chanel), Avon, and finally Ferragamo Group. All along the way, fragrances were launched, then completely re-orchestrated and discontinued or re-launched when new ventures opened then old ones closed, with formula ownership not transferring from old venture to new, making it a very frustrating house to collect due to many short-lived lines that end up selling for a premium as "rare discontinued masterpieces" on eBay. Getting a chance to actually experience Ungaro pour L'Homme I (1991) without a deep investment, I can report my finding without as much bias as you may find from others who first commited to purchase then learned to love it. For starters, this was made under Wertheimer administration, meaning Ungaro had access to house perfumer Jacques Polge and all the various custom materials he has made bespoke for his house. Combined with the fact that he often teamed with a younger François Demachy, who had recently been assigned as director of research and development to handle other Wertheimer brands like Tiffany, Bourjois, Stéphanie de Monaco, Salvatore Ferragamo, plus Emanuel Ungaro, and you can see something of an erstwhile "dream team" being formed here. Sadly, this power duo only really worked on low-key stuff under the Wertheimer umbrella outside of their breadwinner Chanel, and the majority of that output is also discontinued like this fragrance.
Jacques Polge was all about subtle blending, classicism, and immaculate design a la Jacques Guerlain or Vincent Roubert, while François Demachy was all about dynamism, modernism, and experimentation, as evidenced by his controversial works as head perfumer for Dior. Together, they composed what is essentially a dandy rose chypre for men, in a style that had been growing in popularity since the late 80's but contrasting dark opulence with bright futuristic freshness. The opening is dry lavender, bergamot, sharp petitgrain, and pine, feeling pretty solidly "grooming masculine" in feel. With a trick of the tail, you are coated in darkness, with Turkish rose, carnation, bitter artemisia, clary sage, and jasmine indole. The darkness here reminds me of Salvadore Dali pour Homme (1987) and Zino Davidoff (1986), but the indolic depths of those fragrances is countered by a bright metallic geranium, a note Polge would later revisit with Demachy in Chanel Platinum Égoïste (1993), an unlikely collaboration for a house Polge usually worked on by himself at the time. The light shining through the dandified darkness continued into the base, with a fresh salty uplifting ambergris type of musk (likely attained in an early and then-expensive use of synthetic ambroxide, which Creed also used to boost the aroma of real ambergris). This ambergris accord is saddled with oakmoss, sandalwood, benzoin, and amber for a chypre feel, smoothed by a touch of coumarin. Wear time is about eight hours and performance is moderate, with whiffs of that sandalwood and fresh musk carrying the rose core aloft all day. Where you'd use something so artistic is up to you, as this is not mass-appealing in the slightest, although I feel is shares a common tether with scents like Lauder for Men (1985) in that it has an uncommon element that allows it to be a great scent for summer despite the density of it.
Ungaro pour L'Homme originally didn't have the "I" after its name, but became part of a triptych where it acquired the roman numeral, a series that was later discontinued after Wertheimer severed ties to both Emanuel Ungaro and Ferragamo Group, who he partnered with to make perfume. Ungaro pour L'Homme I its two sequels are considered such aforementioned "lost masterpieces" posthumously, and are all highly venerated by enthusiasts of vintage masculine market designers, selling for insane prices when you find unmolested bottles. As mythic unobtanium, it feels more like investing in "perfume futures" stock for later arbitrage than buying a fragrance to wear when seeking out Ungaro pour L'Homme, and ou can imagine the anxiety of spraying something that is literally dollars up in flames with each wear, so luckily I have some alternatives. The previously-named Salvador Dali pour Homme gets close, but what's closer is the little-known Joint by Roccobarocco (1993), adding a bit of vanilla and civet to the futuristic dandy dark metallic rose chypre vibe, which fans of classic styles may actually prefer over the starker Ungaro. Beyond that, GFF Uomo by Gianfranco Ferré (1997) leans further into metallic green tones, but away from the fresh musky base. Overall, Ungaro pour L'Homme I is every bit the wearable art I expected with such swirling hype surrounding it, but also isn't nearly as unique as I was led to believe, and no "Jesus juice" as a friend calls it. There is no harm in loving Ungaro pour L'Homme I enough to consider such, just be aware that it isn't the only one of its kind, although it is worth experiencing even if only via sample. Polge and Demachy work well together, and if nothing else, this scent is proof they should have done more together than they did separately as house perfumers for competing designers. Thumbs up